


No Words

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkwardness, Chance Meetings, First Time, Future Fic, M/M, Oral Sex, Same College, Sappy as hell, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama Tobio is surprised to receive a text message from Kindaichi Yuutarou, saying that they have landed in the same college. But Kindaichi isn't looking for space or to pick a fight, and  what they find together changes both of them.</p><p>However, is what they have enough to heal old wounds and perhaps a fresh one or two?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 30 Day NSFW Challenge: Day 7 - Semi-clothed. Damn, it took way too long for this to come about. I tried to porn, and plot got in the way. How rude.
> 
> The second chapter was written for Day 24 of the challenge - Shy. It's mostly that these two assholes blush a LOT.

Tobio still can’t believe what’s happening as he reads the messages on his phone over and over again until his battery is nearly dead.

Kindaichi had texted him; Tobio had texted back. This continued for what seemed like forever until Kindaichi had to beg off to finish writing his paper. It is all regular. No old animosity. No accusations. No “I’ll win next time”s. They’re just people now, with coursework and classes and volleyball practice, but as an afterthought rather than an omnipresent cloak over them.

The original text had been a surprise, especially since he hadn’t even known Kindaichi still had his number (why would he bother changing it when no one talks to him anyway?).

>> _Hey, I saw you in the administration office. I didn’t know we picked the same college._

His first reaction was shock, quickly followed by panic. What if Kindaichi reports him? He isn’t sure what for, but Tobio is good at offending people – especially Kindaichi – so he can’t be too careful. He quickly sent a reply to assuage any damage his presence has caused.

<< _Sorry. I’ll stay out of your way._

The next round was in rapid succession, and the farther it went, the more Tobio’s stress melted into something giddy bubbling in his stomach.

>> _No, dummy. I just wanted to say hi. We’re adults now. We don’t have to run away from each other._

_< < Oh. Sorry._

_> > And stop apologizing for existing. I’m not mad at you for that anymore. _

_< < Sorry._

_> > Damn it, Kageyama. Say something normal!_

_< < Do you still have pointy hair?_

_> > Oh, my god. I think I just shot milkshake out of my nose._

_> > And no. My mom told me I’ll never get a girlfriend as long as I look like a vegetable._

_< < I always kind of liked it. But I’m sure your hair looks good down, too. _

_> > Not as good as yours. I hate that you look like that waking up. It isn’t fair._

_< < Sorry._

_> > You’re the worst._

_< < Sorry again._

_> > Hey, there’s a curry place just outside the campus. You tried it yet?_

_< < Are volleyballs round?_

_> > Did . . . did you just — you actually made a joke. _

_> > That’s actually really cute. _

_> > Forget I said that. _

_> > I want to try the curry place tomorrow night after I turn in my paper. You wanna come?_

_< < Is that okay?_

_> > I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t._

_< < All right. It’s pretty good. They have yakitori at every table, so you get to watch your meat cook if you order it. _

_< < Oh, and they have corn, too. I know that’s your favorite._

_> > I’m surprised you remember._

_< < Hinata says I don’t forget anything but how to act normal. I used to get mad, but I think he’s right._

_> > Shorty-kun? You two are friends, I take it._

_< < Yeah, I guess. We stayed over at each other’s houses here and there and went for pork buns after practice. _

_> > That’s a friend, Kageyama. Don’t be so shocked you have them. You’re a good guy when you try._

_< < I wish I’d tried harder, Kindaichi._

_> > Then let’s start over._

_> > Hi! I’m Kindaichi Yuutarou._

_< < Kageyama Tobio_

_> > Cool. Wanna hang out?_

_< < Sure. Is seven okay? I have practice until six, and I don’t want to stink._

_> > That’ll be great._

_> > Hey, I hate to do this, but I need to finish writing that paper before they kick me out. I’m not here on a scholarship. I’m actually lucky they let me in at all. I didn’t do any college prep classes until my third year._

_< < Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, then._

_> > Sure thing. I’ll meet you outside the admin office._

_< < Okay._

He’s going to see Kindaichi, and Tobio can safely say he hasn’t looked forward to practice being over before, let alone a day in advance.

The next day, Tobio surprises one of his senpais by politely declining extra practice — something he typically seeks out. “You got a hot date or something, Kageyama?” Kinogawa, a second year wing-spiker, asks.

However, when Tobio turns red, Kinogawa’s face lights up with a megawatt grin. “Dude, that’s awesome. We’ve all been a little worried about you. You practice too much.”

Frowning, Tobio raises a brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You have to practice,” Kinogawa explains as he loops an arm over Tobio’s shoulder, “but you’re also eighteen years old. You gotta live a little or you’re really going to regret spending your whole life in this gym.”

Tobio gazes up at Kinogawa (the guy is ten centimeters taller than Tobio, after all) in wonder. “No one’s ever worried about me like that before.”

Kinogawa shakes his head. “I’m sure they have, but haven’t said anything. You got any of your old senpais in your contact list still?” Tobio nods. “Ask one of them. You might be surprised.”

With a laugh, Kinogawa slaps Tobio on the shoulder and heads out of the gym. “Good luck with your date, Kageyama,” he calls over his shoulder.

Tobio turns over what Kinogawa had said before shooting a quick, curious text to Sugawara.

<< _My senpai told me to do this, but did you ever worry about me when we were in school together?_

About halfway through changing his clothes, Tobio reads the reply text.

>> _Every day. I’m surprised you noticed, to be honest._

_< < I didn’t. One of my senpais said the team worries about me, that I practice too much. That I’ll regret spending my school years in a gym and not outside of it. He said he probably wasn’t the first, and to ask an old senpai. You were the first one I thought of._

_> > I’m glad they’re looking out for you, Tobio. You deserve to have good friends like that._

_< < I’m going out to dinner with Kindaichi. He wants to try a curry place nearby._

_> > Oh, really? From Seijou? I didn’t know you were in the same college. He suggested it?_

_< < Yes?_

_> > I’m really proud of you. You two have a great time, and let me know how it goes. Oh, and don’t be a stranger. You can text me anytime. I’m your friend, too, you know._

_< < Thank you, Suga-san. I will._

Tobio spends so long beaming at his phone that he barely registers that he has fifteen minutes to make it to their rendezvous spot. Shooting to his feet, he cakes on another layer of deodorant and smooths his generic blue polo and black trousers for the hundredth time before darting out the door and towards the administration building in a full sprint.

When he arrives, he sees that he’s ten minutes early and breathes a sigh of relief. It gives him just enough time to rehearse his greeting to Kindaichi over and over in his head until he says something he knows isn’t ridiculous.

Kindaichi arrives five minutes later with a smile and a wave, and Tobio blurts, “Thank you for coming!”

“Um . . . I invited you,” Kindaichi replies warily. “Are you okay?”

No, Tobio wants to say. His palms are cold and sweaty, and all he can smell is the excess amount of deodorant he had applied. He can’t recall the last time he had worried about how he smelled around Kindaichi, and now he’s panicking because what if Kindaichi thinks he smells bad all the time?

Tobio starts when Kindaichi laughs. “Dude, slow down whatever is cooking in your brain. You look like your head’s going to explode or something.”

“Sorry!” He cringes when the word comes out of his mouth. “No, I — I am, but . . . damn it.”

A hand touches his shoulder, and Kindaichi’s voice is softer than he’s heard in a long time. “Hey. It’s just me. I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, but you don’t have to, okay.”

Blinking, Tobio shakes his head. “It was never ‘just you.’ I have to do better than before.”

“What? Is that what this is about?” Kindaichi scratches his head. “Kageyama, I . . . if I were really mad about what happened forever ago in middle school, do you think I really would’ve kept your number all this time? Would I have even texted you when I noticed you were here, instead of walking the other way? Do you really think I’m that kind of a masochist?”

When hearing it like that, Tobio feels like an idiot. That is exactly what he has been dreading, and Kindaichi can see right through it. He wants to apologize to Kindaichi for being so dense, both now and before, but somehow, he doesn’t think Kindaichi wants to hear that, either.

“What do I do now?” Tobio asks, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Chill out and come to dinner with me,” Kindaichi answers, and the calmness in his voice soothes Tobio’s raw nerves.

“Okay.”

Their meal consists of eating gross quantities of food and talking about their college schedules. Tobio is surprised to learn that Kindaichi didn’t make the college’s volleyball team, that he’s simply playing on an intramural team to keep in shape while he piles on credit hours.

Kindaichi seems glad that Tobio has a chance to start every third game or so as a first year, which makes Tobio blush. He’s used to people praising his skill as a setter, but seldom is anyone truly _happy_ for him to do well.

After a ten minute stand-off over who is going to pay the bill, Kindaichi kicks Tobio in the kneecap and runs to the cashier while he’s reeling from the blow. At first, he’s irritated, but they laugh about it on the way outside, where the early spring air is still brisk and pleasant.

“This was nice,” Kindaichi remarks as he bumps his shoulder into Tobio’s. “You’re still weird and awkward, but a good kind. We should hang out again soon.”

Tobio blinks and gapes at Kindaichi. “Y-you want to hang out with me?”

Kindaichi stops in his tracks and rests his palms on Tobio’s shoulders. “Kageyama, I need you to listen to me for once in your life. Middle school was what it was. We were both being assholes, and I’m sorry for that. I’m not like that anymore, and neither are you, so I would very much like to start again and get to know the guy you became at Karasuno. Fuck Kitaichi. I won’t bring it up if you don’t, so don’t act so surprised that I’m actually happy to be around you.”

“But . . . why?”

With a humorless laugh, Kindaichi shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand. If you did, this would just be awkward.”

Raising a brow, Tobio says, “How is this not already awkward?”

“Yeah, it is,” Kindaichi admits. “But it’s a good kind of awkward. You’re dense but kind of sweet, and I really missed that about you. The way you were when we met, you know?”

“Oh.” Tobio doesn’t know what to say. All he can concentrate on is Kindaichi’s face, looking for any sign that his words aren’t genuine. But Kindaichi has never been much of a liar, and Tobio really wants it to be true, so he nods and gives what he hopes looks like a smile and not murder face before saying, “Okay. I  would like that, too.”

Kindaichi laughs to himself at a joke Tobio doesn’t think he understands, but with a clap on the shoulder, Kindaichi says, “All right, then. Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No?”

Grinning, Kindaichi directs them in the opposite direction and says, “Then _we_ are going to see that new Marvel movie.”

Thinking of the sparse few commercials he’s seen about the film, Tobio asks, “The one about Robot Man?”

“God, you wasted your teenage years. Come on —” Kindaichi hooks their elbows together. “— let me reeducate you.”

Three hours and two buckets of popcorn later, they emerge from the movie theater with Kindaichi grinning from ear to ear and stars in Tobio’s eyes. “That was . . . so cool.”

Kindaichi nods. “There hasn’t been one that good since Winter Soldier.” His smile softens as he stops next to the poster on the side of the building for the film they’ve just seen. “I saw that one with Iwaizumi-san. Probably one of the best days of my life.”

Tobio wants to ask why it was, but he knows Kindaichi will tell him if he feels like sharing. However, he doesn’t have to wait long for the answer.

“Our birthdays are only a few days apart, and Oikawa-san threw up a little party in the clubroom the night of my birthday. Everyone on the team got me one of the Marvel movie DVDs so I had them all, and Iwaizumi-san handed me a couple of cinema tickets and just said, ‘You and me.’”

Vaguely, Tobio remembers that Kindaichi is an only child and never talks about his father. Suddenly, Kindaichi’s borderline infatuation with Iwaizumi doesn’t seem so strange. “It must have been nice to have someone who wanted you to have a happy birthday. Like a big brother.”

Kindaichi nods. “Yeah, like a big brother. He tried to make time for me whenever he could, even though he didn’t have to, and I’ll never be able to repay him for that.”

Tobio wonders why Kindaichi would need to repay Iwaizumi’s kindness, but he stops short of saying so when he realizes that he would want to do the same. Not out of a sense of debt, but of thanks. “I think Iwaizumi-san would be proud of you, Kindaichi.”

His face red, Kindaichi looks away and groans. “That sounds so much more embarrassing out loud than when I think about it in my head.”

“Sorry.” Tobio stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrinks into his jacket against the rapidly chilling night. “But really, this is good.”

Casting a long glance, Kindaichi drapes his own jacket around Tobio’s shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

 

Much to Tobio’s relief, he hasn’t scared Kindaichi away and their night out isn’t the last of its kind. Two days later, they have coffee before class, and the next they have lunch. The days turn into weeks and even into months, and Tobio finds himself wrapped around his time spent with Kindaichi when he’s not in class or at practice.

Even his teammates have noticed the difference between the Tobio they first met and the one who is ready to bound out of the locker room to hang out with his friend.

“I’m glad it’s working out, Kageyama,” Kinogawa says as he’s packing away the net. “You just look so happy to hang out with this guy. He must be something.”

Tobio bobs his head. “I’ve known Kindaichi since middle school. We weren’t friends then, but we’re okay now.”

“Oh? Was he on your team, then?”

“Yeah. He was my ace.” Tobio hangs his head. “I ruined it for both of us, but my high school team helped me and his helped him.”

Kinogawa nods in comprehension. “Sounds like you’re talking about more than volleyball now.”

“I learned how to work with other people, and Oikawa-san taught Kindaichi that he’s valuable, that he’s always been valuable.”

Brows raising in surprise. “Wait. This Kindaichi played with _the_ Oikawa? The one the national teams are sniffing at?”

Not sure what the surprise is, Tobio offers, “Um, yeah? He was our senpai in middle school. Kindaichi followed him, I didn’t.”

“Dude.” Shaking his head, Kinogawa fists a hand in his hair. “And this kid goes to _our_ school and he’s not on our team? Does he not want to play?”

Frowning, Tobio looks at Kinogawa in confusion. “No, he didn’t make the team. He was cut before I even got here.”

“That son of a bitch.” His face darkening in a way Tobio has never seen, Kinogawa storms off into the locker room. He hears a crash and muffled shouting before he runs in to see what’s going on.

Their team captain, a guy even Tobio is a little afraid of, is sitting in the middle of the floor with blood drizzling down his nose as Kinogawa looms over him, chest heaving and fists raw. “You did it again!”

Yukishima, the captain, wipes the blood from his nose and casts it off heedlessly on his shirt. “What the hell do you want me to say, Kinogawa. I just want to win.”

“That’s not winning, you fucking asshole!” Kinogawa kicks the bench and scatters a hopper of water bottles while the smattering of their teammates left collectively step back. “How many this year?”

With a shrug, Yukishima climbs to his feet and answers, “Just the one.”

Thoroughly confused, Tobio looks at Kinogawa and asks tentatively, “Senpai? What are you talking about?”

Jabbing his finger at Yukishima, Kinogawa grits his teeth and says, “He does a background check on every single applicant for our team. Every one. Who they’ve played against. Who they’ve played with. Every last one of them. If there’s conflict between two of them — an old rivalry, some sort of enmity, or whatever — he’ll keep the one he thinks is better and cut the other one.”

Tobio’s eyes widen for a moment before blind rage takes over him. “You can’t do that. Volleyball is for everyone. Kindaichi is _good_.”

“But you were better.” Yukishima picks up his bag and leaves the locker room as if his nose weren’t oozing blood, as if he wouldn’t be dead if looks could really kill.

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Kinogawa’s hand rests on his shoulder. “Calm down, kid. Leave the rest to me.”

Nodding woodenly, Tobio leaves the gym and can’t even remember how he ends up standing in front of Kindaichi’s door. He doesn’t even look up when Kindaichi answers the door, barely hears his greeting.

All he can say is, “I ruined everything.”

Kindaichi stills. “What?”

Tobio allows Kindaichi to shepherd him into the room, where his roommate is draped over his bed, snoring softly. “I . . . I should go,” Tobio murmurs.

“Nah, he sleeps like a rock,” Kindaichi explains as he sits down with Tobio on his own mattress. “Now, tell me whatever it is you think you’ve ruined. I want to help.”

Shaking his head violently, Tobio buries his face in his hands and haltingly gives an account of the after-practice skirmish he had witnessed. Kindaichi listens silently until Tobio slumps, his head practically hanging between his knees. “I never wanted it to be like this.”

“Tobio.”

At the sound of his given name, Tobio jerks his gaze towards Kindaichi in surprise, only to find a soft, wobbly smile on Kindaichi’s lips. “I already knew that, but thank you for worrying about me. I was just hoping you’d never find out.”

If Kindaichi’s arm weren’t holding him up, Tobio thinks he would have tipped over onto the floor already. “H-how . . . what?”

“He told me when he let me go,” Kindaichi explains. “He thought us trying to work together would be a problem, so he rejected my application outright because he wanted you more than me.”

Tobio searches Kindaichi’s face for any sign of bitterness, but he doesn’t find it. Which leaves him even more perplexed. “Then why did you say you didn’t know I went here?”

Kindaichi sighs. “I spent a few weeks being bitter about it, but I saw you that day and just realized . . . you would never allow that if you knew about it, even if you hated me. So I decided to get over it and use it as an opportunity to get to know you again. The right way. Without volleyball to fuck everything up.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Tobio stares at Kindaichi’s resigned expression, not daring to hope that the words he heard are what actually came out of Kindaichi’s mouth, that they’re all true.

But Kindaichi just shrugs. “I’m not mad about it at all. After all, if I’d made the team, would you be sitting here with me right now, worrying about me or even caring how I feel about something?” When Tobio doesn’t answer, can’t even fathom an answer, Kindaichi kneels in front of him. “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but the past few months of getting to know you again, of being around you without the pressure of being teammates — I would take that over a spot on the team any day.”

“But you love volleyball.” Tobio tries to process this, to understand what Kindaichi is saying, but none of it computes. How could someone who loves volleyball ever choose him over playing? Who would ever want him for more than just his skills as a player?

He doesn’t realize he’s said all of this out loud until Kindaichi frames Tobio’s cheeks with his warm, callused palms and brushes a fleeting kiss on his lips.

“ _I_ do, that’s who.” Kindaichi rests his forehead against Tobio’s and sighs. “Now, if you ever say anything that stupid again, so help me, I’ll kick your ass.”

Tobio can’t look away as the moment replays in his head again and again. Kindaichi kissed him. Kindaichi gave him a kiss. That was his first kiss, and it was from Kindaichi.

Without a second thought, he pulls Kindaichi to his chest and crushes their mouths together. Tobio doesn’t know what he’s doing at all, and it’s not hard to tell that Kindaichi doesn’t, either, but the sensation of his body tingling wherever Kindaichi is touching is too heady for him to care.

When they break away, both of them are gasping for air as they stare at each other. “So . . . that happened,” Kindaichi says finally.

“Yeah.”

Climbing up on the bed, Kindaichi sits next to Tobio and leans against his shoulder. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

His lips still buzzing, Tobio touches a finger to them experimentally and finds that they’re tender. “So that’s what that’s like.”

Kindaichi merely chuckles as he falls back onto the bed and drags Tobio on top of him. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool, I think.” He brushes his thumb across Tobio’s temple and smiles. “Did you like it, too?”

The question barely registers in Tobio’s brain, which is too busy processing and cataloguing these new sensations to generate a response. It isn’t until Kindaichi’s face falls that he realizes he’s supposed to say something. He isn’t sure what Kindaichi asked, but he knows what he wants to say.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Kindaichi’s grin is all he needs to know.

 

Scarcely a day goes by when one of them doesn’t manage to seek the other out for one reason or another, but they always end up kissing. Sometimes, the pretext is slim at best (because Kindaichi can’t expect Tobio to know why some idiot decided that math needed letters any more than he does), and sometimes, there is no pretext at all.

But after a solid month of kissing Kindaichi, a question that has been brewing in the back of Tobio’s mind decides that it can no longer be ignored. In their favorite restaurant while Kindaichi has a mouth full of curry, Tobio finally asks, “Are you my boyfriend?”

Kindaichi’s eyes bulge, and soon he is gasping for air. Tobio wonders if he should help, even if he has no idea what to do, but he’s rescued from that prospect when Kindaichi regains his composure and drains his glass of water.

“What brought that on?” Kindaichi chokes.

Tobio worries his bottom lip with his teeth. This isn’t the reaction he had hoped for at all. Kindaichi’s response is more like a deflection than a definition, which makes Tobio afraid to hear the answer. “Um, I was just wondering. We do boyfriend stuff. We kiss a lot. Does that make us boyfriends?”

Kindaichi absorbs this before giving Tobio a cryptic, “Let me think about it, okay?”

They finish their meal in silence, even though Tobio finds that he doesn’t have the taste for curry today, after all. They don’t even argue over who pays; each of them just offer up half and they take their leave.

It isn’t until they’re halfway back to the dorms that Kindaichi stops and says, “Just so you know, I didn’t really have to think about it. I just didn’t want to answer something so private in a public place like that.” His cheeks grow pink. “It’s kind of private.”

“Okay,” Tobio says, belying the brass band playing an ode to relief in his chest.

Kindaichi takes both of Tobio’s hands into his larger ones and holds them together. “Ever since I can remember, it’s been just me and my mom. Here and there, she would try to date someone so she wouldn’t be lonely, but it never worked out and I never realized until I was ten or so that it was because of me. It made me feel not wanted, like I was in the way, and I never wanted to feel like that again.”

With a chuckle, Kindaichi shook his head. “And then you came along, all clueless and good at everything, and _god_ I had it bad for you. But then you started to change, started to turn into this person I knew wasn’t really you. I hated it, and at the time, I actually thought I hated you. So then the tournament happened where we refused your tosses and rejected you, and I felt vindicated for a little while.”

Tobio doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until a ragged sob oozes out of Kindaichi and makes his chest burn from it. “Kindaichi, please don’t cry.”

A pained smile does little to holds of Tobio’s worry, but Kindaichi continues nonetheless. “When I got home, though, and my mom asked how the match went, I told her everything that happened. She got really quiet, and she’s only done that after I told her something once: when I was eight and took some money out of her purse to buy candy with and that had been her money for her transit pass to get to work. She was disappointed in me.

“That was about when I realized that I was kind of disappointed in me, too. It hadn’t been that long ago that I’d felt so unwanted by my mom’s last boyfriend, and I had turned around and done that to you, when I know you’re not really a bad guy and you had even been my friend for a while. I turned into one of _them_ , one of the boyfriends that made me think that my mom would’ve been happier if I hadn’t been born.”

Tobio’s jaw hangs slack for lack of anything relevant to force out of it. Kindaichi’s face is a mass of raw emotion, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand what this admission had cost him. He wants to tell Kindaichi that he had never held their old middle school fallout against him, that Kindaichi was right to be upset and lash out at him the way he did. That Tobio wouldn’t be the person he is today without that.

But, instead, he jerks Kindaichi to his chest for a bone-crushing hug that lasts until Tobio’s arms begin to cramp up. “We’ll find another word, then.”

With that, they continue their trek to Tobio’s dorm room. Inside, they’re happy to find themselves alone, with a note from Tobio’s roommate about going home for the weekend.

Their eyes meet for a long, heavy second before Kindaichi plunges his fingers into Tobio’s hair and rains kisses all over his face. Groaning, Tobio wraps his arms around Kindaichi’s waist as his hands drift up beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.

When Kindaichi’s lips graze the hollow of Tobio’s throat, however, a sound he never expected to come out of his mouth spills into the room. His knees wobble as Kindaichi, who is smiling into his skin, attacks the spot with tongue and teeth until Tobio is nearly draped off of Kindaichi.

Determined not to be the only one in such a state, Tobio sets out to send Kindaichi reeling just as hard. With a growl, he kneads his palm against the rapidly growing bulge in the front of Kindaichi’s jeans.

“Holy shit,” Kindaichi wheezes as he pulls Tobio across the small expanse of the room before pushing him backwards onto the bed.

Tobio can’t even formulate a response before Kindaichi straddles his waist and grinds their groins together hard enough for him to see stars. Then Kindaichi’s lips are on his before he can find the oxygen required to beg for them, for more, for _him._

His hips canting into the friction that is almost painful in its intensity, Tobio fights the fastening to his trousers until he can push them halfway down his thighs and turn his attention to Kindaichi. Soon, they’re kicking their pants off and onto the floor, with just their tees and boxers separating their overheated, over-sensitive skin.

However, Kindaichi stops as his fingers wrap around the waistband of Tobio’s boxers. “Are we okay? This is kind of fast, and I didn’t ask first and —”

Tobio holds up a finger and silences Kindaichi mid-ramble. “I want to. With you.”

Kindaichi doesn’t fare much better in the embarrassment department, but he slowly shucks Tobio’s underwear before placing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of his cock. Ribbons of pure _feeling_ leech out into every nerve of Tobio’s body, and he involuntarily thrusts his hips up to demand more.

“Careful,” Kindaichi murmurs before running his tongue around Tobio’s girth. “I want us both to enjoy this.”

It takes every ounce of restraint Tobio has to restrain his primal urge to plunge into the warm, wet heat of Kindaichi’s mouth, but he just barely does. Even when Kindaichi takes in almost his entire length, he allows Kindaichi to be in control, even as he rapidly loses his own.

His vision blurring, Tobio dares to glance down at Kindaichi instead of the back of his eyelids. Their eyes meet, Kindaichi’s mouth still firmly fastened around Tobio’s cock, and he comes.

Kindaichi pulls back coughing, and apologies tumble out of Tobio’s mouth as he pounds Kindaichi’s back to help him breathe. After a few long, breathless seconds, Kindaichi holds up his hand and croaks, “I’m okay. Just . . . warn me next time, okay?”

Nodding vigorously, Tobio takes a moment to realize that Kindaichi had said ‘next time.’ As in ‘not the last time.’ He can’t help but plant an enthusiastic kiss on Kindaichi’s mouth. Tobio can taste himself there, pungent and milky, but he doesn’t mind at all because it means Kindaichi had drawn it out of him.

Hesitantly, Tobio pulls back and touches the waistband of Kindaichi’s underwear. “Can I?”

“Of course,” Kindaichi murmurs, his breathing quick and shallow. He hisses when Tobio tugs the fabric over his cock, and it’s quickly replaced by a deep-throated moan when Tobio runs his hands up the length.

Wary of his own mistakes, Tobio gently eases Kindaichi into his mouth and wiggles his tongue. There is a strangled cry, and taking it as a good sign, Tobio tries something else.

His own attempts are not any more sensual or skillful than Kindaichi’s, but when Kindaichi comes, Tobio is so happy to just lie next to him and smile at everything and nothing in particular.

Kindaichi leans over and pecks him on the cheek. “We don’t need a word for this. If there is one, I can’t think of it.”

Tobio can’t help but agree. He’s not good with words anyway, but it seems like a waste to assign a word to this aura of well-being that has draped itself like a blanket over him, lulling him into a sense of peace he never knew he could achieve. “No more words,” he agrees with a yawn as he burrows into Kindaichi’s side and drifts off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuutarou wakes up in a room that isn’t his with an arm draped over his middle, and he hasn’t felt this good in a while. With a contented hum, he gently lifts the hand on his hip to his mouth and brushes a kiss to the knuckles.

The scant light oozing through the curtains tells him it’s barely dawn, and Yuutarou is surprised he slept so solidly in an unfamiliar place. Maybe it’s just Kageyama that puts him at ease. _No_ , he corrects himself. _Tobio_.

He is very aware of the scratch of the familiar dormitory bedding on his nethers, reminding him that he is wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. It makes it hard to miss the rasp of Tobio’s groin on his bottom as he groans and shifts in his sleep — a place Yuutarou never realized could be ticklish until this very moment.

Biting his lip, he tries his best not to laugh, but instead the noise bottles up in his windpipe until it escapes in the most unholy snort. When Tobio rises and looks around blearily, jaw slack with confusion, Yuutarou bursts into laughter before burying his face in his pillow.

“Whassappening?” Tobio grumbles, rubbing one eye while yawning loudly.

His cackle dying to a dull roar, Yuutarou raises his head to see Tobio’s obnoxiously obedient hair draped over sleep-addled eyes and it’s impossible to stop the grin spreading across his face. Warmth blooms in his chest as he sits up and gently strokes Tobio’s cheek. “Morning, you.”

Tobio blinks rapidly as he looks at Yuutarou. “You’re still here.”

Yuutarou frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be? Is it a problem?”

Eyes shooting open, Tobio shakes his head adamantly. “No! I just . . . every night, I go to sleep, hoping I won’t wake up and find out that you don’t actually love me. That it was just a dream.” At this confession, Tobio draws his knees to his chest and hides his pinched face in them.

The warmth in Yuutarou’s chest slowly deteriorates to a chill as he sees Tobio break down in front of him. He had thought they were past this insecurity, had squashed this latent feeling of Tobio’s that he is unwanted. But seeing it before his eyes when Tobio’s guard is at its weakest, Yuutarou realizes that both of them truly have a long way to go before that feeling will be gone in him forever.

He recalls the discussion from the night before, when Tobio had asked him if they were boyfriends and Yuutarou had dumped his own problems all over a moment Tobio had probably thought would be a special one.

“Tobio,” Yuutarou murmurs, deflating slightly when Tobio doesn’t look up at him. He tucks a finger under Tobio’s chin and lifts so their eyes meet. The latter tries to look away, but Yuutarou sets his mouth firm and repeats, “Tobio, look at me.”

Finally Tobio meets Yuutarou’s gaze. “I’ve loved you pretty much for as long as I’ve known you. Why would I stop now, when I’m pretty sure you feel the same way about me? I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to.” With that, he brushes a soft kiss to the corner of Tobio’s mouth and wraps his arms around those tightly-wound limbs.

Slowly, Tobio melts and returns the embrace, his mouth searching for another kiss. Yuutarou obliges, and they drink in each other’s bad breath like they’ve never tasted anything better.

They soon search around for their clothes before wandering over to the campus coffee shop for some much needed caffeination. Yuutarou settles for chai while Tobio drinks coffee so doused in milk that it’s practically white. Their table is off in a far corner of the shop, which is sedate early on a Saturday morning.

A box of donuts sits on the table between them and isn’t long for the world as they regain some of the calories they had spent on each other the night before.

It’s Tobio who breaks the companionable silence. “Do you have any classes today?”

Yuutarou shakes his head. “You?”

“No. I do have practice later tonight.”

Nodding, Yuutarou says, “Yeah, I have practice this afternoon right before yours. It’s one of the few times we can get the gym on campus and not at the rec center.”

Tobio frowns. “You have to go to the rec center? That’s five miles away.” At Yuutarou’s shrug of resignation, Tobio scratches his head. “Sure, we practice every night, but what about the first and second gymnasiums?”

“Gym One is girls basketball and volleyball. Gym Two is boys basketball, badminton, and I think the marching band uses it once or twice a week.” Yuutarou sighs. It isn’t hard to remember all the things that stand in the way of a simple intramural volleyball club. Things that never would have been an issue at Aobajousai. “The baseball team will use your gym for batting cages, too.”

Tobio falls silent for a long while, and Yuutarou worries that he’s bored him, but when Tobio starts to stroke his chin in concentration, he eases. “Something on your mind?”

Humming, Tobio looks long at Yuutarou before asking, “If you _could_ play on the school team, would you?”

“I —” Yuutarou doesn’t know how to finish. When he was first rejected, he’d had a litany of reasons to prefer playing on a rec team. It was less time-intensive and cheaper. But that was then, and everything has changed since that day.

On one hand, he is very much aware of the gap in skill between him and Tobio, and that he will likely not play in his first year. Inversely, he knows he can play at a higher level than his rec team and desperately wants to know what it’s like to play alongside this new and improved Kageyama Tobio.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, and it’s the truth. He doesn’t miss Tobio’s quick frown. “What’s with the face?”

Worrying his bottom lip, Tobio stares at his drink and says, “Kinogawa-senpai is still working on getting Yukishima-senpai removed as captain. He says the school generally stays out of club business, so he’s taking the matter to the club advisor.”

“And this school generally has player-coaches for non-training periods.” Yuutarou nods in understanding. “I can see how he got away with it for this long. I don’t exactly agree with that kind of thing, but I kind of get why he does it.” When Tobio’s eyes widen in surprise, Yuutarou explains, “Three, maybe even two, years ago, he could very well have been right about you and me. Drama in the locker room never stays there, which was why it was so good to play alongside Kunimi for so long. If not for him, things at Kitagawa probably would’ve blown up in our faces a lot sooner.”

“Kunimi?” Tobio’s surprise is obvious. “I thought he hated me more than you did.”

“Oh, no,” Yuutarou answers, chuckling as he shakes his head. “He was more . . . disappointed in both of us for acting like children.”

“But we _were_ children.”

“Ha!” Yuutarou laughs out loud at Tobio’s expression before draining his cup. “More like babies. I can barely remember what it’s like to be that young. It was almost a lifetime ago.”

Tobio nods solemnly. The awkward moment seems to have passed, and Yuutarou nearly sighs in relief. He’s bought himself some time to consider the idea of playing alongside Tobio again and how that makes him feel.

But not today. The guy he loves is shoveling donuts into his mouth and has sugar crusted on his lips, and he’ll be damned if it doesn’t make his face hurt from smiling.

 

 

Tobio follows Yuutarou to practice and watches quietly from the bleachers. However, he doesn’t remain quiet after Yuutarou’s teammates, who are unused to an audience for practice, notice that one of the school team’s first stringers is watching them.

“That him?” Nishikawa, the team’s regular setter, asks. He jerks his head towards Tobio. “Your guy?”

Yuutarou doesn’t bother fighting off a smile as he glances over to see Tobio watching the practice intensely. His eyes follow the ball avidly, fists clenching when a play is executed. “Yeah, that’s him. I think he might be backseat driving in his head right now. Don’t be scared if he rushes you after practice and starts talking a million miles an hour. He just really has a thing for how other setters play.”

Nishikawa scratches his chin. “Um, would it be weird to ask him if he wants to stand in for a few practice sets?” When Yuutarou raises his brows in surprise, Nishikawa sighs. “Honestly, I want to see how you play with a better setter.”

Frowning, Yuutarou shakes his head. “Nishikawa-san, you’re just fine as a setter.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nishikawa shrugs. “But I’ve seen a few of his games, and he’s almost . . . untouchable. To be honest, when it comes to the rest of us, so are you.”

Eyes wide and jaw slack, Yuutarou stutters until Nishikawa holds up a hand. “It’s not a bad thing, Kindaichi, but someone like you should really be playing with a team of your caliber. Most of us never even started in high school, and you started in your first year.”

Finally recovering his words, Yuutarou huffs and says, “Yeah, okay. I’ll ask him. He usually practices extra anyway, but I’ve been, um, keeping him busy. He’ll probably be ecstatic.”

He leaves a grinning Nishikawa behind him as he makes his way over to Tobio, who jumps out of his skin when Yuutarou touches his shoulder. “Hey, easy,” he says softly.

“Are you okay?” Tobio asks, head darting all over Yuutarou’s body to look for any signs of injury or distress. “It’s okay if I’m here, right?”

Plopping down, Yuutarou snags Tobio’s water bottle and takes a drink. “Of course. That’s what I was talking to Nishikawa-san about, actually.”

But as Yuutarou opens his mouth to explain Nishikawa’s reasoning for asking Tobio to step in on a practice, he stops. He recalls how deeply it had disturbed Tobio to find out Yuutarou had been rejected from the school club because of him; there is no telling how Tobio would react if he hears what Nishikawa had just said to Yuutarou.

So he settles on a harmless mostly-truth. “Nishikawa-san was wondering if you would mind standing in for a bit for him. He wants to do a four on four intra-squad scrimmage, but our back-up setter has tutoring right now.”

Tobio’s eyes shoot open. “Do I get to play with you?”

“Yep.” Yuutarou smiles at the excitement in Tobio’s voice. “That’s the plan.” At Tobio’s emphatic nod, he says, “Start stretching. I’ll let him know.”

Darting to his feet, Tobio begins stretching immediately as Yuutarou jogs away. Nishikawa gives him a questioning look. “So?”

Yuutarou nods. “Yeah, he’s game. But just so you know, I told him it’s because our back-up setter had tutoring and couldn’t come. He would never agree if I told him what you told me.”

“Huh?”

For a moment, Yuutarou forgets that none of his intramural teammates are aware that he was cut from the school team, let alone the reason. He’s sure Nishikawa can be trusted with that kind of sensitive information, but he doesn’t want to shake any trees when there is even the slightest chance that he’s not the only one who lost a spot for similar reasons.

With a sigh, he says, “I’ll tell you later, but please don’t tell him anything. I want to do it in a way I know he can process without being upset, okay?”

“Okay.” Nishikawa seems to accept that answer as he goes over to start setting up a scrimmage. A few minutes later, Yuutarou is joined by a warmed-up Tobio, who had already arrived ready for practice and only needed to shed his sweats.

After a round of introductions, Yuutarou and Tobio settle in on one side with Taijou, a reasonably good defensive player, and Daishiro, a noodle-armed freshman who had admittedly decided to take up volleyball in an effort to become slightly less unathletic (it’s not working particularly well, if Yuutarou is honest).

On the other side of the net is Nishikawa; their libero, Aoki; middle blocker Tanabe; and Nakatsu, the strongest wing spiker on the team other than Yuutarou. Everyone all around seems happy to see Tobio and to practice with him, which sets Yuutarou’s mind at ease.

His team gathers around to decide the rotation. Since they have the first serve, it’s decided that Daishiro will take that serve just to get it out of the way. However, everyone looks over at Tobio in surprise when he says, “Please let me know where you want the ball and your preferred speed.”

“Huh?” Taijou frowns. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” Daishiro nods in agreement. “Just make your best guess and we’ll let you know.”

“O-okay.” Tobio sends a worried glance over at Yuutarou, who gives him a wry smile. “Do you still like high, slow tosses?”

Yuutarou raises a brow. “I didn’t know you even knew what kinds of tosses I like.”

Tobio’s face flames as their teammates shoot them confused looks. “That was a long time ago.”

Cringing inwardly at Tobio’s defensive tone, Yuutarou forces a laugh and says, “I was kidding. Yeah, just like that.”

They all nod at each other before taking formation. Yuutarou clears his throat when he catches Tobio staring at Daishiro, who is preparing to do an underhand serve. Tobio pales and turns back around to force his gaze to the other side of the net.

The serve is short and wide, and the other side takes their turn. Tanabe has a serviceable jump-serve, which barrels towards Daishiro and glances off his flailing arms before flying off for a point. Tobio wheels around, and for a fleeting moment, Yuutarou worries that he is going to shout at a beginner.

However, Tobio merely stands beside him and demonstrates sliding to the side to meet the serve rather than reaching for it, explaining everything in great detail as he does. The rest of the team — both sides — stops to listen to Tobio’s words. Their conversation ends with a broad grin from Daishiro and a little smack talk between Tanabe and Taijou.

The next serve comes to Yuutarou, who pops up a perfect receive to Tobio. “Kindaichi!” Tobio calls as the ball arcs perfectly across the breadth of the court. The run-up, the jump, the toss — they’re all perfectly in concert as the ball scuds to the floor on the opposite side before any of the defenders could possibly touch it.

As he lands, Yuutarou holds out his right hand as it tingles from the force of the hit. It’s a feeling he hasn’t had since high school, since he was the ace of Aobajousai and his setter was pledged to make him the centerpiece of their attack. He looks up to meet Tobio’s eyes, and he catches the triumphant grin.

Yuutarou’s lungs evacuate quickly, and he can’t find the words to explain this feeling. Not relief, not regret, not joy. All three, but so much more. He ignores the catcalls from his teammates as he stalks over to Tobio and embraces him tightly.

“Just like that,” he manages to say into Tobio’s silky hair. “Just like that.”

Tobio mutters in Yuutarou’s ear, “I really want to kiss you right now, but it would probably embarrass both of us.”

Yuutarou throws his head back and laughs before slapping Tobio on the shoulder. “We have plenty of time.”

The game resumes, with Yuutarou dialing back his own power out of fairness, while Tobio periodically takes time outs to explain certain concepts to Daishiro.

By the end of practice, they are all sweating and smiling, and Yuutarou doesn’t miss the pointed look Nishikawa gives him. He knows Nishikawa has seen exactly what he had expected to see from the two of them, from Yuutarou in particular.

However, even Yuutarou is surprised at how well he and Tobio had meshed. Between not having played with a player of Tobio’s skill level in almost a year and a setter of that caliber for almost three, Yuutarou swallows the burgeoning feeling that he really, _really_ misses it.

He stays to watch Tobio’s practice, trying not the allow himself to hate Yukishima for not giving him so much as a chance, no matter what he had told Tobio.

It’s easy to see the exponential growth of Tobio’s ability to play on a team, just from practice drills. He periodically follows up with spikers to try new things and hone old ones, doesn’t so much as flinch at mistakes, and asks the team’s main setter questions the other guy seems more than happy to answer.

When practice lets out well past dark, tired players make their way to the locker room while the managers break down the equipment. However, one player stays on the court and meets Yuutarou’s gaze, and it’s exactly the person he had decided he needed to talk to the moment he slammed Tobio’s set to the floor.

“Kindaichi,” Yukishima says with a slight raise of a brow.

“Yukishima,” Yuutarou responds, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”

 

 

As they make their way back to Yuutarou’s dorm room for a change of clothes, Tobio remains unaware that Yuutarou had spoken to Yukishima and Yuutarou doesn’t intend to burden him with that knowledge. Not unless something good comes out of  that little chat.

Tobio waits outside the building while Yuutarou gathers what he needs to stay the night. He picks up the usual — a change of clothes, shower stuff, toothbrush, and something to sleep in — but as he touches the door handle to leave, he stops. His eyes drift over to his bed and the rolled up paper bag from the convenience store down the street underneath it.

Yuutarou knows how to use everything in there, more or less, but what he isn’t sure of is whether either of them are ready for it yet. But as he drops his duffel and slouches onto his bed, he reaches underneath and pulls out the bag to turn the contents over in his hand for what has to be the tenth time since he bought them a week before.

His cheeks used to burn when he looked at them, but now, Yuutarou’s fingers trace the bold text on the box of condoms as his other hand flips the cap on the lube open and closed over and over.

Eyes closed, he allows his mind to wander to the warm place reserved for them in his imagination. Dark hair clinging to a sweating brow as Tobio cries out in pleasure. Cries out Yuutarou’s name as he’s being stretched out from the inside.

Yuutarou’s belly tightens at the thought, and he shoves the items back into the bag and stuffs them into his duffel before heading back out to the courtyard.

When Tobio gives him a soft smile as they fall in step together, Yuutarou realizes that he does indeed know the answer to the question from before. Can’t even imagine why he had been unsure in the first place. And when their fingers twine together, Yuutarou doesn’t bother fighting the grin that spreads across his lips.

“I had a good time today,” Yuutarou says, because he realizes that he hasn’t said it yet, that Tobio may need to hear it. “I loved playing with you and watching how great of a player you’ve become.”

Tobio is practically vibrating next to him. “I’m not giving up. Not until you get the chance you deserve.”

Yuutarou starts. “How did you —” He almost forgets that Tobio had previously mentioned talking to one of his teammates about removing Yukishima as captain. But that isn’t what Yuutarou wants, and not what he needs. “I’ll get my chance. In fact, I get my chance in one week.”

Fumbling his keys as he tries to unlock his door, Tobio jabs wide around the lock as he gapes at Yuutarou. “What?”

Taking the keys, Yuutarou unlocks the door and says, “I talked to Yukishima, and we made a deal. I play alongside your team’s second string against the starters.” Tobio’s eyes widen. “They win, and nobody contests Yukishima’s methods until after he graduates. We win, and I’m on the team.”

“We?” Tobio’s jaw drops open. “You mean you and me?”

Yuutarou chuckles as he squeezes past Tobio and drags them both into the room. “Well, you are the second string setter, so yeah. Me and you. I told him we would have to work together in harmony to beat the first string, and if we could do that, it both eliminates the reason to cut me from the team and also proves that I’m good enough to play for it. It was simple logic; he couldn’t really contest it.”

There is a hard glint in Tobio’s eyes as he smirks. “We’ll crush them.”

With a snort, Yuutarou claps Tobio on the shoulder and says, “Yeah, we will.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t want to think about that tonight. I just want to think about you.”

No more words are necessary as Yuutarou lets his bag slump to the floor and thrusts his fingers into Tobio’s hair. Their lips meet as Tobio’s hands tug at the hem of Yuutarou’s shirt. Hungry kisses are only interrupted by garments being flung from one of them or the other.

Tobio’s head rolls back as Yuutarou leaves a hot trail of kisses down his chest. The tang of salty sweat is intense but not unpleasant, but the thought of making Tobio sweat just that much more is almost as much of a turn-on as the breathy sounds flooding his ears from above.

Yuutarou hums against Tobio’s belly as he slowly slides down his underwear. Tobio pants as he sags against the wall, and Yuutarou smiles while his mouth traces its way over every spare inch of new territory.

But before he proceeds, Yuutarou takes hold of Tobio’s hands. “Tobio, how far do you want to go?”

On his knees, Yuutarou watches Tobio intently as he gasps for air, his grip hard against their clasped hands. When his breathing evens out, he slides to his knees to meet Yuutarou’s gaze. “I want you.”

“I can tell,” Yuutarou teases as he casts a glance at Tobio’s rigid cock. “But that’s not what I’m asking.”

“Oh.” Tobio’s face turns bright red. “ _Oh_.”

Sure his own cheeks are just as flushed, Yuutarou shrugs and agrees, “Yeah, oh.” But despite his embarrassment, he trains his gaze on Tobio. “I just want you to know that I’m willing to go wherever you want to. However much you want to do, I’ll do it because I love you. Or however much you don’t.”

Tobio’s face is now flaming, but he meets Yuutarou’s eyes and, unfurling one of his knotted up fists, strokes Yuutarou’s cheek. “I’m ready,” he says, jaw squared as he draws their mouths together.

Yuutarou can’t breathe as he takes in this new boldness of Tobio’s. All the shyness, all the embarrassment at talking about the deepest intimacy, is gone. In its wake is nothing but urgency and desire. He can scarcely believe he had doubted either one of them or their feelings.

Reaching over to his nearly forgotten duffel, Yuutarou pulls out the paper bag and dumps its contents on the floor. “I brought these, just in case.”

Smirking, Tobio grabs the lube and puts it into Yuutarou’s hand before grabbing an entire strand of condoms out of the box. Laughter bubbles in Yuutarou’s chest as he tugs Tobio to his chest and stands. They tumble back on the bed together.

 

 

**_One Week Later_ **

It’s been a long, grueling week of practice with the second string. At first, Yukishima had refused Tobio’s appeal to allow the second string to practice independently until the time came for Yuutarou’s tryout match, but Kinogawa had gracefully offered to give Yukishima a ‘colonoscopy with a tennis racket’ should he refuse, so their request was granted.

In that time, Yuutarou had got to know some of his potential teammates, and it reminds him acutely of what he had been robbed of at the start of the year. But what surprises him the most was how willing all of them are to do their best to get Yuutarou on the team, despite the impact it might have on their potential playing time.

And now, all of them put on their gear in the visitor’s locker room, seven players total, and when Tobio stands, he clears his throat. The entire team turns their heads in surprise as their typically non-talkative setter commands the room.

“Some of you don’t know, but our captain has refused to allow some players to try out for reasons that have nothing to do with talent.” There are a few solemn nods, but for a number of them, their eyes widen at this news. Tobio had mentioned that a number of players hadn’t borne witness to the brawl in the locker room between Kinogawa and Yukishima.

Tobio continues. “I’ve known Kindaichi since we were twelve, and he’s very good and always has been. He was an Aobajousai ace and was the second highest scoring spiker in the Miyagi Interhigh Tournament last summer.”

There is a hum of approval in the air, and even though Yuutarou’s cheeks are definitely red at the sound of him being praised so heavily in public, he forces his chin up at Tobio’s comment because he did do those things and he is damn proud of them.

“But because Kindaichi and I didn’t work together well when we were in junior high — which was my fault for being a bad setter and no one else’s — Yukishima-senpai didn’t even let him try out. And it isn’t the first time this has happened, according to Kinogawa-senpai.”

The room bursts into a roar that belies the mere seven people in it, and Yuutarou nearly reels off the back of the bench. Their libero, Yamada, shoots to his feet and stalks over to Yuutarou and holds out a hand. Yuutarou accepts a firm handshake with a smile he doesn’t have to force at all.

“You can count on me, Kindaichi-kun.” Yamada drops his hand. “Not only is it not fair to you, I’ve never seen Kageyama-kun work harder than he has this past week. We need him to be at his best next year as our main setter, and he seems like he’s at his best when he’s with you.”

Yuutarou blushes because, while the team more or less knows that he and Tobio are dating, they all agreed to treat this as a separate entity. That they would all do this even if he and Tobio hated each other.

“Thank you, Yamada-kun,” Yuutarou says softly. “Tonight, I would love nothing more than to earn all of your respect, but also prove that I deserve to be here. If I fail to live up to that standard, I will step off the court in an instant and never bring up the subject again.”

Tanaka, one of the middle blockers, laughs loudly. “Not gonna happen, bro. We’ve seen you play; you’ll kick ass and probably start next year. We just hope _we_ can keep up with you and Kageyama.”

Tobio’s smile is slight, a nonentity for anyone who doesn’t know how to look for it, but it says so much to Yuutarou. It’s his game face, the one he wears when he’s ready to fight to the last thread of muscle he has, and Yuutarou’s voice carries no doubt at all when he says, “We’re gonna win this.”

They step onto the court together in the school’s yellow jerseys, while the first strong dons the purple reverse shirts. Yuutarou plucks at the unfamiliar color on his chest, marveling at how long it’s been since he and Tobio have worn the same jersey.

He looks out over the gym and is surprised to find that there is a decent-sized audience for this match. The team’s traveling ouendan cheers raucously for both sides, and a number of students have piled into the gym to watch, as well.

His breath balls in the back of his throat when he spots his intramural team in their game shirts, and when they see Yuutarou, they loudly whoop and cheer. Yamada elbows Yuutarou in the side and says, “How about that, eh?”

“I . . .” Yuutarou’s heart feels like it’s going to burst. While he had told Nishikawa the circumstances behind his tryout match, the rest of the team only knows that he has a chance to make the school team, that he might be leaving them. Yet they cheer him on, and Yuutarou’s eyes start to water just a little.

On his other side, Tobio squeezes his hand, mouth in a firm, determined line. “We’re going to win.”

“Yeah,” Yuutarou croaks.

When warm-ups start, Yuutarou finds himself slipping into game mode, focusing out the rapidly growing audience and the thought of anything but the team in front of him and the one behind him. Something Iwaizumi had always told him when they played tough opponents lingers in his mind: _All opponents are tough opponents, so just look at them facelessly if you have to. Then you won’t get nervous or overwhelmed. Ushiwaka’s just another guy in a jersey across the net. Kageyama is just another opponent._

Iwaizumi has never really followed his own advice, but it had helped Yuutarou focus more clearly in important matches. And this one definitely qualifies.

The whistle sounds, and the players line up. Yuutarou spins the ball in his hands as he stands behind the service line, gathering his thoughts and running through the motions in his head before the toss.

And when the toss pops up in a perfect arc, Yuutarou executes what has to be the cleanest jump serve he’s done since he started them in his third year of high school. Greatly aided by his 195 centimeters of height, the ball hurtles down with a loud slap right between the first string libero and a diving Yukishima.

In the bleachers, a chorus of, “Nice ball! Mou ippon!” rains from his rec team, but Yuutarou barely hears it as he catches the telltale smirk from Tobio as he shoots Yukishima a triumphant glare. It makes Yuutarou chuckle to himself as he resets for the next serve. At least some things never change.

The next one is received, and the ball rallied for several turns before it falls to the floor, rotating to the other side. Yuutarou is surprised when Kinogawa makes eye contact before unleashing a serve directly at him that would make any mortal libero flinch. But this is his chance — probably his only one — and he’s not going to waste it.

Squaring himself to the ball, he dives in front of its flight path and huffs in satisfaction when it hammers off of his outstretched arms and pops nearly straight up. Not a perfect receive, but it’s not a chance ball and even high enough for a decent bump set.

He feels the whoosh of air before he sees Tobio fly by him and drop to his knees underneath the ball. Tanaka is already in the air, and a bullet of a set is delivered straight into his palm mid-swing. The ball lands before the other side can even make a move to receive.

A shiver goes down Yuutarou’s spine because this isn’t the first or second time he’s seen a spike like this. It reminds him heavily of Karasuno’s freak quick, only it’s twice as unnerving to see on the same side of the net because the speed of it.

This is Kageyama Tobio at his best, and knowing that all this skill is being presented for Yuutarou’s benefit makes his heart hiccup in his chest.

“Nice ball!” Yuutarou hears a familiar voice bellow from the stands. When he turns to look, he nearly trips on his own feet when he sees Iwaizumi giving him a short wave. Beside him is someone he recognizes as the former Karasuno captain, who sends a sheepish hail, as well.

Turning to Tobio, Yuutarou asks, “Did you know Iwaizumi-san was coming?”

Tobio’s brows scrunch together as he scans the crowd. “No. And Dai-san is here!” He frowns and scratches his temple in thought. “I told Hinata about the match, and he probably told Kenma-san, who probably told Kuroo-san, who probably told Dai-san, who goes to the same school as Iwaizumi-san.”

Yuutarou laughs. “I didn’t follow any of that, but I haven’t seen him forever and I miss him.”

“We’ll make them proud,” Tobio says, mouth set in a firm line. Yuutarou doesn’t doubt him at all.

They ride the momentum of their quick start into a solid 25-22 win in the first set, with Yuutarou racking up eight kills and four points off blocks. If the first string players weren’t taking either this match or the player auditioning for a spot among them seriously, they are now, Yuutarou thinks with a smirk.

The second set is a decisive victory for the first string, where the near-misses from the first set are converted into fine, crisp plays, and the momentous plays from Yuutarou’s team begin to flag. It serves to highlight the difference in skill between the regulars and the bench players. However, Yuutarou never stops cheering them on in both their successes and failures, and Tobio never stops tossing him the ball right into his wheelhouse.

It’s neck and neck in the third set, but Yuutarou notices a distinct increase in block coverage in front of him, sharply decreasing the number of tosses coming his way, as well as the effectiveness of the ones he does get. He gives Tobio a meaningful look and sends him a “T” gesture.

“Time!” Tobio says to the referee before they all gather in a circle on the sidelines.

Yuutarou guzzles some water and leans over with his hands on his knees. “They’re blocking the hell out of me.”

But as the rest of them solemnly nod in agreement, Tobio smiles slyly and chuckles. “Exactly what I wanted them to do.” At Yuutarou’s start of surprise, he explains, “You haven’t hit your optimum striking point yet. You can easily get another six centimeters higher in your spikes.”

“How did you —” Yuutarou shakes his head. “Did you talk to Oikawa-san?”

Tobio reddens and looks away, and it’s all Yuutarou needs to know. If Tobio is willing to talk to someone who still scares him even after all these years, there is no doubt in his mind that Tobio is not leaving anything on the table. “Yeah, I can do another six. Eight or nine if I get a good run-up. I’m taller than I was when I played for Oikawa-san.”

“Good.”

Taking another drink, Yuutarou looks around at the sweaty huddle and says, “Whatever happens, though, thank you guys for agreeing to do this.”

Yamada punches him in the shoulder. “Knowing what I know now, I’m kind of pissed we didn’t already have you. You’d probably have played in half the games at least, especially with Kageyama. You can’t teach the kind of focus he has for you.”

Yuutarou’s face is red as a radish as he recalls just how focused Tobio had been when they were together the night before. It also gives him a renewed respect for how strong an ace setter’s hands really are. As he glances at Tobio’s also burning face, he knows he isn’t the only one thinking about it.

“You just thought something really gross and private, didn’t you?” Kamashiro, one of the other wing spikers, accuses with a chortle. When Tobio looks down and Yuutarou hides his face, they rest of the team rumbles with laughter. “Hey, whatever, man. Just keep it out of the locker room, and you two can do whatever you want if it makes you work together like this.”

There is a murmur of assent as the huddle breaks off at the sound of the whistle. Yuutarou claps Tobio on the shoulder. “Well, no need to worry what the team will think if we’re dating.”

“Why would I worry?” Tobio blinks at him.

Yuutarou resists the urge to kiss Tobio’s clueless face then and there. “No reason,” he says as he leans forward and sets himself in receive formation.

The match grinds on, with the score bouncing back and forth, and neither side gains more than a single point advantage. Yuutarou’s scoring increases once again when Tobio’s tosses float just high enough for the spikes to blow through the blocks. Yukishima’s eyes widen the first time this happens, as he and Yuutarou of equal in height yet not at all in vertical jump power.

In what he figures is his last turn to serve, Yuutarou spins the ball in his hand behind the service line and looks hard at the scoreboard. They are at twenty-three and up by a single point, with a chance to pull up to match point. He is in the best position to help his own case, but as he looks down, he sees that his hands are shaking from excitement.

With that, he tosses the ball and slams it straight into the net.

“Shit!” Yuutarou growls, slapping his own cheeks roughly. The blood rushes to his stinging cheeks, and he wishes he could melt into the floor.

From the net, Tobio peers over his shoulder with a pinched look that Yuutarou can only assume is supposed to be a smile and says, “Don’t mind.”

Yuutarou snorts as he leans down for the serve receive. The ball comes to him and he bumps it up to Tobio, and before he has a chance to reset for a potential block, the ball drops to the floor on the other side.

There is a moment of silence in the gym after the setter dump before there is a raucous cheer, and Tobio turns around to give Yuutarou a thumbs-up.

He doesn’t hide his grin as they rotate. The serve is returned on a block-out, and the score is even again.

Yukishima steps behind the line to serve, and something cold dumps into Yuutarou’s blood. For the second time this year, the guy across the court smirking at him has Yuutarou’s future in his hands.

The serve is as hard as one would expect of a college volleyball captain, and it dives to the space between Yuutarou and Yamada. Yamada sails to the floor, with one narrow hand slipping under the ball popping it straight into the air. Squaring himself, Yuutarou bumps the ball to the net, and all he can do is watch as Tobio runs and jumps.

His breath stops for a moment as hands wait on the other side in a high, high block. The ball hits the side of the blocker’s hand and shoots out to the side, slapping the top of the net. It falls and Yuutarou can’t tell which side, but as he sees Kinogawa lunge to scoop it up, a yell tears through him.

Yuutarou runs over to Tobio and crushes him in an enthused embrace. The team piles around them to slap them both on the back. One more point and they break the deuce. One more point, and Yuutarou will take his place on the school team alongside Tobio, who has fought so hard in the past week to help him get there, and changed both of them for the better since that awkward-as-hell text conversation a few months before.

And the next serve goes to that very guy.

Tobio takes the ball and spreads his fingers over the leather, closing his eyes as he touches it to his forehead. When he looks up, there is a cool sharpness to his gaze. One Yuutarou hasn’t seen since they were both in high school on opposing sides. But this time, that wicked gaze is locked and ready to do its best to give them what they should have always had. A team, a partnership on the court that had been so sorely lacking in middle school. But unlike then, Yuutarou feels like Tobio can give that to them this time.

The roaring in his ears starts when Tobio’s hand comes in contact with the ball and doesn’t stop as the rally goes back and forth. Neither side seems intent on losing, and Yuutarou has never felt more alive.

There is a buzz to the lights as Yuutarou looks up. He sails through it for a back row attack, the ball right where he needs it just like always, and he yells as he hits it because he just _knows_ where it will land and that it will, indeed, fall on the other side.

All of their side explodes with joy as they tackle Yuutarou laughs as well as he can with over three hundred kilos of person on his chest, but right at the bottom of the pile with him is Tobio. Their eyes meet, and the roar of the gym melts into the buzz of the lights like no one else is there but them. Yuutarou cranes his neck up and fastens his mouth to Tobio’s.

They are still mid-kiss when their teammates have mercy on them, and there are a few wolf-whistles from the onlookers. Finally, Yamada jerks Tobio to his feet, and Yuutarou follows suit. He catches sight of Iwaizumi and the former Karasuno guy next to him (did Tobio say Dai-san?), and Iwaizumi accepting a folded thousand-yen note with a smug smile. He doesn’t know what Iwaizumi and Dai-san bet on, but it makes Yuutarou happy to know that Iwaizumi had faith in them and they managed to fulfil it.

After a handshake with the defeated but still smiling starting squad, Yuutarou meets Yukishima’s hard gaze at the end of the line and offered his hand. “Thank you for the opportunity.” With a bow, he adds, “It was worth it.”

There are a number of meanings to this, but Yuutarou leaves it at that and takes the captain’s shrug as a sign of at least indifference.

From there, Yuutarou and Tobio go over to the stands for a round of stilted high fives (well, on Tobio’s part) with the rec team, who act as if Yuutarou’s victory is their own.

Biting his lip, Yuutarou says with a scratchy voice, “Now, this doesn’t mean you guys can just disappear.”

“Same to you, varsity boys,” Nishikawa replies with a hard slap on both their shoulders. “Anytime you two want to drop by practice, we’d be happy to have you. Everyone plays better with you two around. Even Daishiro.”

There is a faux protest behind him, and they all laugh.

Lastly, they trek over to Iwaizumi and Dai-san. Yuutarou bows to Iwaizumi and squeaks, “Thank you for coming!”

Iwaizumi laughs before pulling Yuutarou into a hug. “I heard through the grapevine you two were playing together, and I had to see it for myself.” He elbows Dai-san. “This guy here wasn’t sure you two would last the whole game, but I knew you could do it.” He gives Tobio a soft look. “Both of you.”

Tobio’s back is ramrod straight as he stands tall against the weight of Iwaizumi’s praise. “Thank you.”

Dai-san holds out a hand to Yuutarou. “Sawamura Daichi, by the way. I doubt you remember me, but I remember watching you two in middle school. It’s really good to see Kageyama work well with you after everything. What you guys have is special.”

Yuutarou smiles broadly as he reaches out to take Tobio’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Yeah, it really is.”

Neither of them can stop blushing today.

 

 

Later that night, as they burrow under the covers in a mercifully vacated dorm room, compliments of Tobio’s roommate and his Saturday ritual of all-night gaming at a friend’s place, Yuutarou mulls over the day in his head. It’s all still a bit much to process, but they finally have everything they should’ve had from the beginning.

They have volleyball, and a good working relationship on the court.

They have a school that has, as a result of the match, decided to move away from player-coaches for anything but practice purposes.

They have friends who help them along the way.

And they have each other.

Yuutarou hums as he kisses Tobio’s temple. “This is perfect,” he says softly, and Tobio nuzzles into the crook of his neck in reply.

They never do decide on what to call their relationship, or each other, but Yuutarou has learned that that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because when he thinks about how far they’ve come and how much more they have ahead of them, he can say with certainty that, for all of it, there really are no words that could make it better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sappy as shit, and I'm not sorry at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading and, hopefully, supporting this beautiful ship.


End file.
